


Kravitz and Barry's Unfortunate Baking Mistake

by Newt



Series: Newt's Twins Week! [6]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, M/M, and they both love their s/o very much, kravitz and barry bond over mutual confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 17:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13552596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newt/pseuds/Newt
Summary: It’s Taako and Lup’s birthday, and their husbands are gonna make them a cake or die trying.It’s starting to look like it might be that last thing.





	Kravitz and Barry's Unfortunate Baking Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray hooray, another Blupjeans and Taakitz combo for the soul. It’s twinsweek day 6 and my heart might give out with all the blupjeans, we’ll see how this goes. Here’s where this recipe is from! I’ve never tried it, but it… looks? Good? http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/moms-chocolate-cake

Barry stretched his arms to the sides, warming up his muscles for some intense, high-stress baking. Kravitz stood beside him, arms folded, examining their work so far.

 

Stretched out on the counter of Barry and Lup’s comfy kitchen was every single measuring implement they could find, full of every ingredient they would need, measured out to perfection. Lup had a lot of measuring cups. Some of Barry’s graduated cylinders had worked their way in there, too. Kravitz made sure to wash them first, so it was all cool, probably.

 

This was gonna be the best birthday cake ever.

 

On the weekend, Taako, Lup, Barry, and Kravitz were all heading out to Merle’s beach house to celebrate the twins’ birthday. All of their friends were invited, and it was set to be a wild time. The weekend, however, was not the twins’ actual, calendar birthday. Today was their actual, calendar birthday. So it was up to Barry and Kravitz to make it special. It wasn’t every day someone turned one-hundred-and-fifty-nine, after all.

 

Two-hundred-and-fifty-nine? Barry still had no idea whether they counted the IPRE years or not.

 

“So… shall we get started?” asked Kravitz, reaching hesitantly for a graduated cylinder of flour.

 

“Yeah! Oh, uh… you want an apron?” asked Barry, sliding open a bottom drawer with his foot. He bent over to rummage through it, finding his own special apron that Lup had bought him.

 

“I don’t know about that…” said Kravitz. He had a strict style to adhere to.

 

Barry shrugged, standing up and sliding his apron around his neck. He tied it proudly around his waist, grinning at it upside-down. It was denim, of course.

 

“Um… who’s Jeff?” asked Kravitz, tilting his head to read the slogan.

 

“It’s Jef, like, with one F,” said Barry. “It means ‘jean chef’.”

 

“Of course it does.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” asked Barry, nudging at the drawer with a toe. Lup had a lot of really cool aprons, and it was a shame to not put them to use.

 

“I don’t plan on spilling things, really,” said Kravitz, raising an eyebrow.

 

“No one plans on it, but it happens,” said Barry, defensively. “I’ve gotta protect this sweater. It’s a good sweater.”

 

He hiked up the sleeves, as if proving a point.

 

Kravitz eyed Barry’s worn-out green sweater. It was sort of bunched up at the waist, and the sleeves were all stretched out. Kravitz sighed and grabbed an apron, if not just because he didn’t want to imply that his own shirt was less important than Barry's old sweater. It was a stylish button-up that looked, frankly, fantastic.

 

He tied the apron around himself, a faded blue thing with a huge pocket in the front. Simple, useful, stylish in a kitchen sort of way. He wondered if he could pull it off as well as Taako, and got a little warm inside just thinking about it.

 

“Alright, let’s get down to business then,” said Barry, reaching for the recipe card.

 

Kravitz glanced around the kitchen, sizing up the space while Barry studied the card as if his life depended on it. It really was a nice kitchen. Maybe not as big or as fancy as their one at home, but very Lup. It was a little messy, a little crowded, a lot like home. A few paintings of landscapes hung on the walls, bearing the signature trademarks of Lucretia originals. There was already a good smell in the air, before they even began.

 

“Okay, it says preheat the oven to 350,” said Barry. “And then butter and flour two 8-by-1 ½ inch cake pans. That’s… hold on…”

 

Kravitz spent some time decoding the dials on the oven as Barry scampered away, without fully explaining where he was going. Kravitz was pretty used to this, after spending enough time working with him. He just got into his own head, sometimes, and forgot about the people around him.

 

Kravitz had just figured out the preheating when Barry came back with a long, metal ruler. He pulled open another drawer, this one full of baking pans, and set to work finding one that was the right size.

 

“This, uh… 8 inches by 2 inches should be okay, right?”

 

Kravitz shrugged.

 

“I suppose so.”

 

Barry pulled a few pans out, and Kravitz sloughed off some butter for the buttering-and-flouring. Barry set back to work rifling through drawers as Kravitz did that.

 

“I can’t… it says we need wax paper. I have no idea where Lup keeps the wax paper. It… should be with tin foil, right? That would make sense… oh, there’s my hydrogen peroxide, that shouldn’t be here…”

 

Kravitz watched him search through basically every drawer, getting more and more disgruntled with each failed attempt. He took this opportunity to move the hydrogen peroxide away from their baking ingredients.

 

“Is… buttering and flouring makes it so the cake doesn’t stick, right?” asked Kravitz, putting a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Maybe we don’t need wax paper.”

 

Barry frowned deeply.

 

“But… the instructions said…”

 

“I’ll put some extra… butter in there? Is that helpful?”

 

Barry sighed, smoothing out the front of his apron.

 

“I guess we’ll have to go with that.”

 

Kravitz nodded, and added more butter.

 

“Okay, now we gotta sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.”

 

“Do we really?” asked Kravitz, passing Barry a big metal bowl from the table.

 

“Well, that sure is what it says.”

 

“I would guess that just mixing it is probably fine,” said Kravitz, carefully handling the little spoons they’d pre-filled with baking soda and salt.

 

Barry frowned, face crumpling a bit. The way he saw it, cooking was like chemistry. Delicious, low-stakes chemistry. And you don’t cut corners with chemistry.

 

Kravitz mixed the dry ingredients together before Barry could say anything. Barry watched with quiet, mournful acceptance.

 

“Okay, what next?” Kravitz asked, letting go of the mixing spoon.

 

“Uh, ‘set aside’,” Barry read.

 

Kravitz nodded, and placed the bowl back on the table with a little pat. They stared for a few seconds.

 

“Cool. I mean. I guess… nothing exploded,” said Barry, giving his head a little shake. “Not that that would even… I mean, can you die, bud?”

 

Kravitz couldn’t help but laugh at the flippant way Barry asked this. He and Lup had been reapers for about a year now, but they still retained most of the properties of their living bodies. Sometimes Barry would marvel at Kravitz’s coldness, and stillness, and overall dead-ness.

 

“You realize that’s a very weird thing to ask someone, right? Suspicious, even?”

 

Barry reddened a bit behind the ears.

 

“Whoops, guess so.”

 

He looked at Kravitz, still apparently expecting an answer. Kravitz sighed.

 

“It would probably take more than a kitchen accident to kill me.”

 

Barry nodded, deep in thought.

 

“Um… Barry?” asked Kravitz. Barry jolted to attention, looking at him expectantly.

 

“The cake, Barry.”

 

“Oh, shit, right. Uh…”

 

Barry glanced down at the instructions in his hands, tracing along with one finger.

 

“Okay, so now we gotta get a medium saucepan and combine sugar with two cups of water and boil it.”

 

He looked up at Lup’s collection of pans on the drying rack, hand dancing across a few before settling on a suitably medium-sized one. He set it on the stove, as gently as possible.

 

Kravitz brought over the sugar and water, and dumped it into the pan. Barry stirred it a bit, cranking the stove up all the way. They watched in silence as steam trickled upwards, bubbles formed, and a boil began.

 

The oven had been preheated for a long time by now. Had they really needed to start it that early?

 

“Ah, FUCK!”

 

Barry jumped backwards, clutching at his arm. Kravitz jolted to attention.

 

“Wh… what happened?”

 

“I…. fuck… I leaned on the goddamn stove…”

 

Kravitz noticed an angry red mark forming just above Barry’s elbow.

 

“Well don’t just stand there, get it under cold water!” Kravitz said.

 

Barry stumbled forward to the sink, pushing aside the cup of chocolate. He held his elbow under the water awkwardly, arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes.

 

“I think that’s quite enough of this,” said Kravitz, shutting the stove off and giving the sugar water a tentative stir.

 

“Is the… is the sugar dissolved?” asked Barry, voice gruff.

 

“Looks like it.”

 

“Okay, cool.”

 

Barry gestured over his shoulder with his chin, pointing to the recipe. Kravitz courageously took up the fight, scanning through the page of instructions until he found what came next.

 

Careful not to burn himself and put them both out of commission, Kravitz poured the water into another bowl, then dumped in the chocolate and butter. He stared at it for a while, unsure whether to stir it or not.

 

The sound of flowing water cut off, and Barry walked over to the table, dripping a bit on the tile. They waited for the chocolate to melt in solidarity, before Barry bravely added the vanilla, confronting his old foe.

 

“Just the eggs and the dry ingredients, now,” said Kravitz, checking the recipe.

 

Barry nodded, rushing to prove himself by cracking the eggs with expert technique. Breakfast foods he could do, after spending many mornings cooking breakfast for his very night-owl wife. He brightened at the thought of their sleepy mornings together. He was gonna celebrate her birthday so right.

 

Once everything was all combined, Kravitz took over with the dry ingredients.

 

“It actually looks like cake batter,” breathed Barry, and Kravitz snorted.

 

“So little faith in us.”

 

Barry shrugged, watching Kravitz combine the last few specks of flour into the chocolatey batter. He moved on to the pans, pouring carefully, scraping out all of the batter that he could manage.

 

“Oven time,” said Barry, clapping once.

 

“Oven time,” agreed Kravitz.

 

Barry opened the oven door, reaching for a pair of enormous red oven mitts. Kravitz handed him the pans, and Barry carefully slid them inside, shutting the door, and placing the mitts back onto the countertop.

 

“So now we’ve got 25 minutes,” said Kravitz, reading off of the recipe card. “Should we set a timer?”

 

“I have… no idea how to do that,” Barry admitted, gesturing to the oven.

 

“We’ll just remember to check it, then.”

 

They nodded. Now it was time for the least fun part, which was dishes. Luckily, Kravitz had gotten very good at dishes after a few years of helping out Taako. He’d learned to stay away from the kitchen as Taako cooked, but Taako hated dishes, and Kravitz felt good actually contributing in some way. 

 

They fumbled their way through a few mixing bowls, with Barry drying.

 

“Woah, that’s the good part, what are you doing?”

 

Kravitz paused before dumping the goopy spatula in the sink.

 

“Pardon?”

 

Barry reached over and snatched the spatula away, muttering something about sad childhoods. He ate the batter off of the spatula with some gross smacking noises, and Kravitz turned away in horror.

 

By the time the spatula made its way to the sink, Barry had an impressive chocolate mustache, which he wiped on a dish towel with no qualms. Kravitz sighed deeply, and went back to washing.

 

They settled into small talk, and then quickly moved on to elaborate storytelling. Barry loved hearing about reaper missions, and Kravitz loved IPRE stories, particularly the funny ones where Taako somehow saved the day. They traded with gusto, Barry fumbling over dishes as he recounted aliens and languages and strange celebrations that almost got them killed. Sometimes, a story would end with someone actually dying, and Kravitz would frown.

 

“That was a bit of a downer, at the end there.”

 

“Ha, yeah. I guess you just get used to it, after a while. By the way, I meant to ask…”

 

And then it was Kravitz’s turn, to relay tales of evil cults and undercover missions and violent conflict.

 

“You know, your stories get pretty dark too.”

 

“I’m _literally_ the grimm reaper.”

 

When it came time to take the cakes out, Kravitz opened the oven to one of the most heavenly things he’d ever smelled. It would be more impressive, maybe, if he wasn’t married to the best chef in the whole of Faerun.

 

“Aw, man, Lup’s gonna be so proud,” said Barry, breaking into a big goofy grin. He set out a cooling rack, and Kravitz transferred the pans over.

 

They took a minute to admire the cakes, each lost in their own happy thoughts. Taako and Lup would be home in a few hours, and everything was on track to be perfect.

 

“You think we should do two cakes?” asked Barry, in a fit of inspiration.

 

“There’s only four of us,” said Kravitz, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah, but two birthdays.”

 

“I’m sure they’d be happy to share.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Barry knew this; Lup had been happily sharing things with Taako for their whole lives. But damn if the cake didn’t smell _amazing._

 

“Y’know, someone asked me if it was weird to date a twin once,” said Barry, grinning up at Kravitz.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“I’d never even thought about it. Taako is… like, my brother I guess. And they’re both so different. This is the only time of year I ever even notice anymore, is that weird?”

 

Kravitz nodded, slowly.

 

“Well, for myself, I can say that it certainly is weird finding out that your boyfriend has a twin, who is undead, and about to save the world? I’m... still getting used to things, I suppose.”

 

Barry laughed.

 

“I think they were more talking about, I dunno, how I could be into one twin and not the other.”

 

“What? Gross,” said Kravitz, taking a step back. Barry laughed again.

 

“I mean, no offense, obviously, Lup is wonderful, but…”

 

Barry waved a hand in the air, and Kravitz took the hint to stop talking.

 

They both looked back at the cakes. Kravitz thought they looked good, at least. Admittedly, he was very out of practice with his food prep.

 

Ever since his untimely death, Kravitz had had no reason to eat anything at all. He could eat, he just didn’t need to. He’d only started eating regularly again after he’d met Taako, and rediscovered the wonderful world of food. Basically, this meant that he hadn’t cooked anything for himself in… _quite_ a long time.

 

Luckily, Barry seemed to have picked up on some cooking knowledge after living with Lup for so long. It was still a little shaky, though; both twins were much too proud to let other people around their kitchens too much.

 

So, all things considered, this could have gone a lot worse.

 

The twenty minutes of cooling time passed with more small talk until, moment of truth, Barry put a hand on a cake pan, preparing to release the cake from its tin prison.

 

“Alright, ready to go?” he asked, mostly to Kravitz but at least partially to the cake.

 

Kravitz responded by sliding him a large plate. Barry breathed deeply, centering himself, then quickly and smoothly flipped the pan overtop of the plate.

 

The cake held fast to the pan.

 

“Um.”

 

Barry gave the pan a little shake. Still nothing. He twisted and tapped at it, muttering under his breath. Kravitz gritted his teeth.

 

“Let me try?”

 

Barry passed him the cake pan, and Kravitz continued to hit the pan, with no luck.

 

“I guess… should we cut it out?” asked Kravitz, eyeing a butter knife sitting on the drying rack.

 

“Uh… can you do that?” asked Barry. “Sure. Sounds good. I dunno.”

 

“Well, it’s our only option right now.”

 

Kravitz picked up the butter knife and, carefully and precisely, slid the knife around the edge of the cake.

 

Half of it crumbled away and landed on the plate in a heap. Kravitz’s heart lurched.

 

“Ffffuck,” hissed Barry.

 

“No… this… we can fix this,” said Kravitz, voice strained. He carefully took out the other half, mushing them together in a heap of crumbled sadness.

 

“Just… where’s the icing?”

 

Barry handed him the icing container, white-knuckled.

 

Kravitz dragged some icing over the thing, and bits of crumbled cake stuck to it, pulling up and off of the heap.

 

“We… what did we do wrong?” asked Barry, softly.

 

“Let’s see how the next layer goes.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Maybe you should do this one.”

 

“Um…”

 

Barry’s attempt was just as bad as Kravitz’s. The resulting cake heap was maybe the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

 

“It… it should still taste good?” said Kravitz, already knowing that presentation was nearly all that mattered, in cooking. Curse Taako’s voice in his head.

 

“Um. Yeah. Let’s just ice it,” said Barry.

 

The two of them attacked the cake with icing, leaving a sad heap of icing and chocolate crumbs. It was only vaguely cake-shaped.

 

They stood back to look at their work, neither of them saying much. Kravitz added some food colouring to the small amount of leftover icing, transferred it to a bag, and finished up the top with some words.

 

“Happy birthday Taako and…L… shit…”

 

Barry leaned over, distraught. Kravitz hadn’t planned out the spacing well enough at all.

 

“It’s two letters, seriously,” said Barry, frantically. “You can get her name in there, come on.”

 

“I… I’m out of room,” said Kravitz.

 

“Give it to me…”

 

Barry put a sad “UP” on the side of the cake, in sort of shaky writing. He set the bag down, then stood back again, arms crossed.

 

“I think…” said Kravitz, sizing it up. “That this is the ugliest cake ever made.”

 

Barry nodded, solemnly.

 

Kravitz was the first to break into laughter, but Barry wasn’t far behind. The two clutched at countertops and snorted and giggled for a very long time, always picking up again when they accidentally glimpsed the cake.

 

“Welp, they’ll be home soon,” said Barry, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Might as well get some candles in this thing.”

 

“Right…”

 

When the twins arrived later on, the laughter picked up again with a vengeance.

 

“What… the _fuck_ … is that s-supposed to be?” said Taako, leaning his head against Lup’s shoulder. She almost fell to the side, overcome with laughter.

 

“Happy birthday,” said Barry and Kravitz, mostly together, a little off time, through matching grins.

 

Lup slipped out of Taako’s hold to get a better look, stifling her laughter behind the back of her hand.

 

“Ooh, I’m “L” now. Mysterious. Very secret agent. I love it.”

 

“I put the rest of your name on the side, see?” said Barry, reaching forward to point.

 

Lup noticed his burned elbow with a hiss.

 

“Aw, what happened here, babe?” she placed gentle fingertips beside the burn, and Barry's heart hummed at the light touch.

 

“Damn stove… attacked me…” he said, blushing as she pulled him into a hug.

 

Taako sidled up beside Kravitz, sliding an arm around his waist.

 

“For what it’s worth, I haven’t cooked in about two hundred years,” said Kravitz, grinning.

 

“Bullshit, I taught you how to make stew like a month ago,” said Taako, mouth quirking upwards.

 

“Oh, um. Yes,” said Kravitz, face warming. He still wasn’t quite sure why this warmth started happening, but he liked it very much.

 

“Cake can be next,” said Taako, with a quick side-squeeze.

 

“That sounds nice.”

 

“Hell yeah. Also, I could fix this thing for you in a second with my rad magic, but it’s too cute, so I’m just gonna eat it instead.”

 

Kravitz grinned, leaning further into his husband.

 

“Who says we put this thing out of its misery?” asked Lup, bounding forward and twisting her hands together.

 

“Ah, wait, you’ve gotta do candles first,” said Barry. “There’s matches somewhere here, right?”

 

Lup gave a Barry’s arm a pointed look.

 

“I think you’ve done quite enough, dear. Allow me.”

 

With a flash, all of the candles were burning furiously. Taako yelped, and Lup laughed at him, leaning in.

 

“Make a wish,” she sang, and he nodded. They both blew out the candles at once, and Barry clapped, alone.

 

“Did you wish for cake?” he asked Lup.

 

“Mmm, can’t tell you, then it’d never come true,” said Lup, reaching for a knife.

 

“I wished for cake,” said Taako, stretching out his arms.

 

“Nice going, bro, you threw us into a paradox. I hope you’re proud of yourself,” said Lup, elbowing him in the side.

 

“Always.”

 

As it turned out, the cake did taste pretty great. A true ugly duckling story. Very inspirational.

 

They split the leftovers in half and took them away, to last until their beach party that weekend. The twins parted for the night and the couples snuggled in together. The cake sat in the fridge, ready for a super good post-birthday breakfast.

 

All things considered, it was a very good birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to the memory of that very ugly birthday cake I made for my friend’s 18th birthday. To this day I don’t know why it crumbled like it did.  
> I wrote a lot of this while I was sick, with whatever black magic curse seems to be affecting most of the twinsweek fic writers? So sorry about the possible dip in quality, folks. Like, seriously, though, why are we all sick? *side-eyes tumblr user twinsweek* there seems to be something… darker… going on.   
> Just kidding, I’m mostly better now, thank you for this. Twinsweek has been great, one day left!


End file.
